Raining Sunshine
by Guldberg
Summary: Ever imagined it raining sunshine? Oneshot collection - New chap; Sasuke.
1. Shikamaru

Raining Sunshine.

**..**

"Hey, Shikamaru."

"Hm?"

"Imagine it raining sunshine."

***Flashback***

Shikamaru sighed and watched as a flying ball of yellow and orange seemed to be aiming at his head. And It was too troublesome to move. Besides, he was comfortable.

Oomph!

That didn't make it less hurt, though.

Sprawled on the ground, he discreetly checked if there were any broken limbs. Luckily, none.

"Hey, Shikamaru, what's up!"

Said boy lifted his head slightly from the soft grass, and almost bumped noses with the warm bundle of endless energy, which lay on top of him. Blue eyes met his, and despite himself he found that he was suppressing a smile.

"S'raining sunshine."

***Flashback***

"Wouldn't-crunch-that be nice?"

"Yeah, it would."


	2. Sasuke

This was too weird.

He must be dreaming. There was absolutely no way this was possible. But then again, this was the first time ever he had been conscious of a dream – while he was in it. He was looking up, a disbelieving frown on his face. The clouds looked heavy and full, and of course it was raining. The problem _was_ the rain, though. You see, well – it is kind of hard to explain – the rain was not water. Or anything liquid, at all. It was small drops of light, falling ever so slowly. Small concentrated balls of flickering fire, yet not really. It was like snow, falling that slowly.

He realized he had been staring. And like it happens every time you look into the sun for too long, the spots followed his vision around. Seemingly chasing, never letting him get away. He rubbed at his eyes and understood suddenly what this was. His unconscious was trying to tell him something. That was why he was aware it was a dream. Well, it did not matter. He did not have time for analyzing. He had things to do, goals to reach.

The spots would not go away. It was like they were laughing at him, mocking him for his incompetence. He snarled and immediately felt ridiculous. What the hell was he doing, snarling at nothing? It was a dream, damn it – and an annoying one at that too. Frustrated, though he refused to acknowledge why, he began walking. Just walking along the fields. He stretched his arms down and they got caught in the crops – he let his arms slide through them. Without noticing he started avoiding the dark paths in the field. They seemed dangerous – and was that not a funny thought. Him, of all people, thinking about danger.

The rain kept falling. Every time a drop hit him, a stream of warmth and a sense of belonging coursed through him. It felt wonderful and as he stuck his tongue out, he felt like a kid again. No worries, no obligations – just him and the feeling of straws sliding past his fingers; the trust in him. He opened his eyes and never stopped to think of when he had closed them. A tree stood before him. It was old, the branches were thick and many. The leaves a dark green and the bark looked worn. As soon as he set his eyes on it he felt that sense of belonging again. The tree seemed to shift slightly as if to acknowledge his presence. He took a step forward and the spots in his eyes laughed louder. A wind nearly knocked him over as sudden as it was. Nearly, as his pride would not allow otherwise. It was like it wanted him to go to the tree. He shook his head; he was being stupid, almost taking it seriously. A dream, remember? That was all it was.

Yet his body moved on his own. One step after another, he was nearing the tree. Tingles in the back of his mind spoke of colours. It spoke of smells, tastes. A lifelong promise, a timid whisper and a deep chuckle. And that laugh. It kept ringing in his ears. Like it had embedded itself into his brain. It would never leave. Always there, ready to remind him of what he had lost. But what was it again?

Suddenly a tune pierced through the loud silence. It was tender and powerful at the same time. Full of promises and things to come. It came from all directions at once, except the tree. In fact the old tree seemed to shy away from the sound. He could not bring himself to care. Who was afraid of silly sounds and tunes anyway? He scoffed. Though the tree indeed was very old and had experienced a life time of misery, it was now so weak it did not dare stand up for itself anymore. Wait. What in the seven layers of hell was he saying? This was not reality, damn it!

'That's it, I'm leaving.'

And he did leave. In fact, he got so scared of himself for a moment that he just took off. He was not going crazy, he was not. Eventually, he slowed down to a steadier walk. He ignored the alarms going off in his head at the sight of the dark paths. Although he could not shake off the image of a snake every time he stared for too long. The tune of lust and anger grew louder and more intense. Yes, this was what he wanted. He raised his chin as he walked. This would help him.

However, it was still raining and the spots were still there. He was really growing tired of that laugh. It was like it was haunting him now that he was away from the tree. No, that was not laughter – or even giggling. He stopped dead in his tracks. He closed his eyes trying to will away the sounds of sobbing. He clutched his hands at his head when it did not work and the crying continued. Yet it was still raining sunshine.

Scowling and growling low in his throat, he slowly got more desperate. Why would the crying not stop? What did he have to do to make it stop? His ears perked involuntarily at a whisper coming his way. He could not determine from where, but it did not seem to matter.

'Come with me.' It said. 'I'll make you forget.'

As the sobbing resounded inside his head, he stood up with new hope. The whisper said it could help him (he briefly wondered if he finally went mad just now, but pushed the thought aside; it was not important), all he had to do was to follow it. He would get what he wanted. And with that last thought, he took a step towards the path in front of him. It was dark and overgrown with weeds, but it would help him. He smirked just a bit, and did not notice as the crying stopped.

* * *

Sasuke opened his eyes calmly. He was aware of his sharingan spinning, but he could not bring himself to care. He pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard. Moving a hand through his hair, he sighed and took a look at the watch on his shelf. An hour past midnight. Just great.

He let his head fall back and watched the ceiling in confused silence. What a dream. With a start, he realized and promptly he had an urge to hit something. Not two minutes later he was out the door and down the corridor, searching for a training partner. Anyone would do. He just wanted to hit something.

He would never admit it afterwards. Why he had killed several cronies and destroyed a training ground in the process. And why it would continue, year after year.

After all, it had been the day he left everything.

* * *

Yeah, so this just came to me. I actually kind of like it. I love the thought of evil turned good and good turned evil. Sasuke dreaming of better, happier times? Yep, yep, can't get enough of that.

Comment?


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